


Mending Harry

by nomdemprunt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Counselling, Damaged Harry Potter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Malfoy Family, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infantilism, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Psychotherapy, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Severus Snape Lives, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Survivor Guilt, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 09:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomdemprunt/pseuds/nomdemprunt
Summary: The Second Wizarding War has ended and the wizarding world is ecstatic knowing that The Dark Lord Voldemort has been defeated once and for all by Harry Potter. Hogwarts has been repaired and its halls are bustling with activity as the usual seven class years have been augmented by an eighth to allow the students whose education had been disrupted by the war to complete their education.Of course, an interrupted education isn't the only side effect of the war and, while most are coping with the effects of the war with the help of their family and friends, the same cannot be said for everybody. What happens to those who have no family to turn to? Those who don't feel they deserve the support of their friends? The ones on whose shoulders too much responsibility was placed and for whom the expectations remain too high? This story follows the struggles of one such young man and his journey to acceptance and healing through the emotional support of the last people he'd ever have thought to find a family with.WARNING: The subject matter of this story may be an issue for some. It most certainly does not start out in a happy place and while all will eventually turn out for the better it will be a journey to get there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags note, this story will be dealing with some concepts that some people may struggle with as well as some concepts that other people might find distasteful. If there is anything in the tags that make you question whether or not this story is right for you, I urge you to err on the side of caution. I have attempted to be as upfront and honest about the eventual content of this story as I can be while the majority of it remains, as yet, unwritten. While I have a general concept worked out the fact is that much of my writing comes to me as I go, in addition to the fact that I wish to remain open to feedback from my readers. If you feel that there is anything tagged in relation to this story that gives you pause I urge you to look elsewhere, there are thousands of other stories at your disposal. Thanks for your consideration!
> 
> For those of you still with me, one small note about the relationships mentioned here. While the eventual plan is for Harry and Draco to develop a romantic relationship that relationship will not be the direct focus of this story in the sense that, while the events of this story will lead to the development of their relationship, the bulk of this story will deal with purely platonic relationships between the characters.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was filled with gloomy gray clouds, a perfect reflection of the dreary late-autumn weather outside the school’s walls. The Hall had required extensive repairs in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, it had taken the combined effort of scores of witches and wizards to re-set the enchantments on the ceiling after structural repairs had been completed.

A memorial commemorating those who had lost their lives in the battle defending against Voldemort’s forces was mounted above the Head Table. Forty-nine names were set into the stone in gleaming gold underneath a relief sculpture depicting the final duel between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. Smaller markers had been installed at the sites where each had fallen.

Draco Malfoy sat in his seat near the head of the Slytherin table gazing up at the memorial with both relief and, in no small part, regret that the name Malfoy was not included among those listed. As he watched the animated sculpture play out the final moments of the war over and over again, he reflected upon all of the decisions he had made over the years and wondered how many of the fallen would yet live had he chosen differently.

He had justified every decision to himself over the years, convincing himself that he was making the best choice, the _right_ choice, every time but now, looking back, he knew that most of these justifications had merely been excuses. For better or worse, most often for worse, he recognized in retrospect, Draco had acted out of selfish anger, narrow-minded prejudice, and, worst of all, fear.

Shifting his gaze away from the sculpture, Draco turned to look across to where Harry Potter sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio beside him engrossed in a conversation between themselves. Draco’s mouth turned down in a slight frown as he watched Harry Potter, the darling of the wizarding world, staring morosely at his plate as he pushed his food around with his fork. Since Hogwarts had reopened two months late that year something had been decidedly off about his behavior.

One would hardly have blamed Harry for reveling in his victory over the Dark Lord, basking in the limelight, but instead, he seemed more closed off and reclusive than he had since their second year when everyone had accused him of opening the Chamber. It was a stark contrast to the Hero who’d been on the covers of nearly every issue of every publication released over the course of the summer.

Draco would never forget how Harry had come to his family’s defense before the Wizengamot in the summer, testifying as fiercely for both Draco and his family to receive absolution as he had for the punishment of the other captured Death Eaters. It was thanks to Harry’s determined defense that Draco found himself free of Azkaban, sentenced to three years of strict probation in the custody of his godfather. After the trial, a resolute Harry had walked up to Draco, returned his wand, expressed his hope that they might leave the past behind them, and offered him a firm handshake.

Later that summer as he worked to help repair Hogwarts as penance he’d caught glimpses of Harry, covered in dirt and grime, working tirelessly alongside him with an expression of relentless determination on his face. By Draco’s estimate, Harry had probably had a hand in restoring no less than twenty percent of the damage to the school, far eclipsing the next highest contribution to the effort. All efforts to convince the Gryffindor to take a breather had fallen upon deaf ears and, as summer had given way to autumn, so too had peoples’ efforts to persuade Harry to relax.

Now, three weeks into the first term of what had been dubbed their ‘eighth year,’ there was no sign of the Harry Potter he had seen over the summer. Something had changed between the ceremony celebrating the completed restoration and the start of year feast, and it had Draco deeply concerned.

Harry had been acting reserved and withdrawn, only speaking up in classes when called upon, and a marked distance seemed to have developed between himself and the duo of Weasley and Granger. The other two were completely lost in each other, and more often than not he’d spotted Harry trailing after them in the hallways or standing slightly apart while they chatted.

As he watched, Harry spared a quick glance at Granger and Weasley before carefully rising from the table and slipping out the door. As it was Saturday and there were no classes to attend, and with a firm resolve, Draco stood from his place at the table and quickly followed Harry out the door, bound and determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

Upon reaching the entrance hall, he cast about trying to determine which direction Potter had gone when he heard the doors of the main exit to the grounds fall closed with a soft thump. With a soft curse, Draco hastily conjured a cloak for himself and swept it over his shoulders before slipping discretely out into the courtyard.

What followed was readily one of the strangest afternoons of Draco’s life at Hogwarts. For hours Draco trailed along discretely behind Harry as he wandered the grounds, uncaring of the constant drizzle that had started that morning, and occasionally pausing to kneel with his head down. It wasn’t until the third or fourth stop that Draco finally realized that Harry had been stopping at each of the small monuments erected to memorialize one of the fallen. It was nearing dusk when Harry returned to the castle, just in time for the nightly meal.

After dinner, Draco attempted to follow Harry once again but was utterly befuddled when he reached the Entrance Hall just seconds behind him. Somehow, Potter had vanished! There wasn’t a sign of the Gryffindor anywhere. After wandering the halls for the better part of an hour, Draco elected to return to his dorm room to consider what he’d observed that day; perhaps he’d be able to discern some answers where he currently had none.

* * *

 Severus Snape lay sat up in his bed in the Hospital Wing where he’d been for over six months recovering from his injuries. While he’d be the first to admit that the fact that he’d survived at all was nothing short of a miracle, he was more than ready to get out of bed and get back to his life. The better part of a month had already passed while a substitute professor covered his classes and he was going stir crazy.

He’d thought for sure he’d breathed his last after giving his memories to the Potter boy and hadn’t expected either of them to live to see another day. It had been to his utter astonishment when he woke up in the infirmary nearly two weeks after the battle to see green eyes staring back at him.

It had taken the concerted effort of a dozen specialist mediwitches and wizards, all experts in their respective fields, to repair the damage Nagini’s venom had wrought upon his body. Through some miracle of good fortune, Nagini’s fangs had missed his major arteries. While he had still suffered nearly catastrophic injuries and slipped into a coma, the delayed circulation of the poison into his system had given his magic and his body’s natural defenses the time necessary to shield him from the worst effects. Who’d have thought that years of ingesting poisons to test antidotes would have built up such an active immunity to the snake’s venom?

Severus used the last scrap of his bread roll to mop up the remnants of his stew before pushing his dinner tray away and settling back against the pillows and gazing contemplatively out the infirmary windows. With any luck the specialists from St. Mungo’s would give him a clean bill of health when they visited that evening, and he’d be released from the Hospital Wing tomorrow morning. If he had to put up with Poppy threatening to force feed him another potion he’d probably snap.

* * *

 Draco wasn’t sure what to make of Harry Potter. He’d been turning over everything he’d observed over the last few months in his head and couldn’t make sense of it. The war is over, what could possibly have Harry Potter acting in such a different manner from this summer?

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Potter was suffering from depression, but that just didn’t make any sense. What would Harry Potter have to be depressed about? Ever since the war had ended, he’d been the darling of the wizarding world. Not a day went by that there wasn’t some publication or other prostrating themselves at his feet, proclaiming glory to him as the thus-dubbed _Man-Who-Vanquished-The-Dark-Lord_. Practically every witch and wizard in the world was falling over themselves wanting to give him things, do favors for him, or otherwise ingratiate themselves to him.

Hell, there’d even been that article about the Ministry Central Post Office having to shut down for a week just to process all of the mail he’d received once he’d rented a postbox and redirected all of his unsolicited mail there. Some reports Draco’d read indicated that there’d been no less than 20,000 marriage proposals included amongst all that mail, from both witches and wizards. The world was Harry Potter’s oyster, he could have anything he wanted, so clearly depression couldn’t be the answer.

Draco hauled himself out of bed with a frustrated sigh. It was fast approaching midnight and becoming increasingly apparent that answers weren’t going to be coming to him this evening. He’d been lying idle for far too long and, after sneaking around after Harry Potter all day, he had a lot of pent-up energy that was going to make sleeping impossible.

With a scowl on his face, Draco stalked out of his room, down the hall, and out through the Slytherin common room. Perhaps a walk around the castle would help to settle his mind and let him get some rest. It was bad enough that Potter was going through his days like some kind of inferi, he didn’t see anything to be gained by joining him.

* * *

 Moonlight streamed in through the windows of the Hospital Wing cutting sharp lines across the floor and bathing everything in an ethereal glow as Severus gazed out at the grounds. The specialists from St. Mungo’s had been left just an hour ago and given him a clean bill of health, he’d finally be able to get out of the infirmary tomorrow and get back to his job, his lab, his students. It had been all Severus could think about for the last few weeks cooped up in the infirmary and tomorrow it would be in his grasp… so why was he so restless? He should be happy, shouldn’t he?

Granted, teaching hadn’t been his first choice of careers, but he’d made the best of a difficult situation and, really, other than the occasional insufferable dunderhead his students were tolerable. Certainly, there were other things he might have chosen to do otherwise, but in the scheme of things, there were far worse things he could be doing. He had made friends with a few of his fellow professors (though his efforts as a spy had severely strained many of those relationships), had a roof over his head, three meals a day, and the aid of a house elf any time he wanted it. His life was better than many, better than he deserved, really, what more could he ask for?

Tolerable. That one word defined his discontent. While the occasional star pupil brought a refreshing injection of competence to his classroom, the reality was that teaching wasn’t his passion. Dealing with students who took the course only because it was mandatory vexed him to no end. He’d never been able to understand how people like Minerva or Filius could look forward to September 1 each year eager to welcome a new batch of clueless first years who didn’t even bother to crack open a textbook before arriving at the school. He’d always admire them for their zeal, but he doubted he’d ever understand it.

Perhaps now, with Dumbledore gone and his vow to protect Harry Potter nearing fulfillment upon his graduation next spring, it was time to consider a change of career. Once Draco graduated there’d really be nothing tying him to Hogwarts, the remaining years of his probation could be carried out anywhere. Perhaps his godson would be interested in helping him fulfill a long-time dream and open up a new apothecary in Diagon Alley.

Severus wondered if perhaps they’d be able to stay at Malfoy Manor. The Ministry had insisted that Draco, as a condition of his probation, not be living with alleged ‘bad influences’ in the form of his parents, but perhaps they’d permit it provided Severus was staying there as well. Staying at the Manor would solve a variety of problems; housing would be a non-issue while they got the shop up and running, Draco’d be able to spend time with his parents whom he hadn’t been permitted to see since the trial, and Severus would enjoy spending time with his oldest friends.

It really was absurd how little regard the Wizengamot had given their testimony in what the wizarding press had dubbed the ‘Death Eater Trials.’ Oh sure, they had been happy enough to have Lucius and Narcissa’s statements to help convict other accused Death Eaters, but when it came time to prove their own status as spies for the Light? Ha! The Wizengamot had all but ignored the evidence, and the combined testimony of Severus, Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco until Harry Potter’s own testimony on their behalf forced the matter.

Even the Chosen One hadn’t been able to get them away from the wrath of the wizarding public entirely, though, to be fair, much of that was probably Lucius’ doing. He’d been far too prominent in his role as Voldemort’s right hand, and the people were out for blood. At least they’d been able to avoid Azkaban entirely and a few years of probation wouldn’t really hurt them any, no matter how much it might make Lucius grumble.

With a heavy sigh, Severus hoisted himself up and got out of bed. Poppy would probably have something to say about it tomorrow but, if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he was damned if he was going to spend the whole night here staring out the window. With a huff of annoyance, Severus gathered his outer cloak up from his bedside, cast it over his shoulders and set off to wander the halls and contemplate his future.

* * *

Draco was walking the halls on the seventh floor when his attention was captured by a cool breeze rushing through the corridor. Where had that come from? Suddenly, the warmth drained from his body. The only place on this floor with access to the outdoors was the Astronomy Tower.

Draco had avoided the Astronomy Tower like the plague since that fateful night during his sixth year. Sure, he’d only been following orders and the events that took place that night had all been orchestrated by Dumbledore, but it didn’t change the fact that it had been the first time Draco had witnessed death. It didn’t change the fact that every single person who’d been injured that night had only been in danger as the result of actions he, himself had taken.

The guilt he’d felt about that night had haunted him for months afterward, his dreams plagued by visions of Dumbledore’s lifeless body plummeting from the ramparts. When his father had caught him dosing himself with the Dreamless Sleep he'd pilfered from his godfather's stocks he'd been livid, and Lucius had only grown more furious when Draco had admitted that he’d been doing so for months. It had taken nearly a dozen sessions with him laid out on the chaise in his father’s study to rid himself, mostly, of the nightmares with only the occasional recurrence.

With a grim expression on his face, Draco firmed up his shoulders and steeled himself, resolved to conquer his fears once and for all. Gathering his cloak more tightly about him, he turned into the current of air flowing down the passage leading to the Astronomy Tower and began to climb the winding staircase only to pause a moment later at the sound of a voice reverberating off the walls of the stairwell. The words were echoing and indistinct, and Draco had all but decided to turn back and return to his dorm when recognition broke through and forced him to reconsider. Potter.

Naturally, he couldn’t be sure, the stone of the tower warped the sounds just enough to make positive identification impossible, but the probability was too high to ignore. After all, there were few among the student body who felt comfortable roaming the halls alone this late at night, and none flaunted that rule more than Harry Potter. He briefly considered whether or not intruding upon the conversation taking place was crossing a line, but after the curiosity that had plagued him all day, he quashed that doubt. Draco cast a disillusionment spell on himself and purposefully crept up the winding stairs, careful not to make any sound that might betray his presence.

As he ascended towards the top of the stairs, Draco found himself growing increasingly concerned with the well-being of his classmate. Harry’s voice paused intermittently, as though holding a conversation with somebody, but there was no answering voice to serve counterpoint to his own statements; he sounded positively barmy, could it be that The Chosen One had gone round the twist? As if that weren’t bad enough, the subject matter of Harry’s increasingly agitated rants was disturbing in its own right; he kept carrying on as though he were speaking to Dumbledore, claiming that ‘he’d failed’ and stating that it ‘was all his fault.’

As Draco neared the apex of the stairs, he could just make out Harry’s disembodied head as he stared off into space and the words he heard next made his blood run cold.

“I can’t take it anymore, I just want it to end!”

All of a sudden, Harry turned towards the parapet and began moving closer. With a weight settling heavily in his gut, Draco scrambled to draw his wand, not wanting to draw any hasty conclusions yet unwilling to let what he feared might be coming take place. He licked his lips, allowed the disillusionment charm to fall, and swallowed before calling out, “Potter!”

With a start, Harry halted and turned back towards the stairs. “Malfoy? What are you doing here?” Harry asked, resentfully.

Shrugging off the sullen tone, Draco cast about for an answer when inspiration struck. “Patrolling,” he responded, fingering his prefect’s badge, the shiny silver catching the moonlight, “what’s your excuse?”

  
“I’m just getting some air,” Harry responded, “not that I owe you an explanation. There’s no curfew for eighth-years, remember?”

“That’s true,” Draco conceded gracefully, not bothering to point out that the privilege had been granted so that they could make use of the library in their efforts to catch up on their education, “would you like some company?” Draco sorely hoped that Harry’d agree, his heart was racing in his chest, and he hoped like hell that he’d misread the situation. There was no question that Harry Potter was sorely in need of some kind of assistance, but surely he wasn’t suicidal!

“No thanks, Malfoy, I’d like to be alone if it’s all the same to you,” Harry said as he turned back towards the parapet.

What a dilemma. On the one hand, there was no way in hell Draco wanted to leave him alone based on his suspicions. On the other hand, if his suspicions were correct, he would have to choose his words carefully lest he upset the delicate balance and all but push Potter over the edge himself. “Pot—Harry, maybe you should come on inside and get some rest. I’ve noticed that you looked exhausted lately.”

“I’m fine, Malfoy, since when do you care?”

“Come on, Pot—Harry, you were at the trials. When you returned my wand you offered to put the past behind us, I thought you’d understood that my fam—that I only did what I had to do to maintain appearances?” Draco winced at the standoffish tone of Harry’s voice, he had to find some way to get through to the Gryffindor.

“I do understand. I’m telling you, I’m fine. Go back to your patrol, I’ll be in when I’m ready.”

Crestfallen, Draco fell silent and watched silently as Harry approached the parapet at a complete loss for how to deal with the situation. As much as he wanted to hope for the best, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding the words he’d overheard had instilled him with. He swallowed, then tried again. “Harry…”

“Shove off, Malfoy, surely you have better things to do than stand here harassing me. Like you said yourself, I thought we’d agreed we were done with all that.”

Draco cringed, this wasn’t going at all the way he’d hoped. “That’s not—I’m not trying to wind you up, I’m trying to look out for you. I don’t want you to…”

“Don’t want me to what, Malfoy?”

“Look, maybe we could sit down, talk about things?” Draco responded, getting desperate.

“There’s nothing to talk about, now get out of here. Don’t make me hex you, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood.”

“But…” Draco tried.

Abruptly, Harry whirled around, his wand emerging from beneath his cloak. “ _Depulso._ ” Draco found himself forced back into the stairwell, the hatch slamming home just over his head, and a muffled “ _Colloportus_ ” could be heard through the wood of the hatch.

With a curse, Draco raised his wand, thrusting it upwards and stammering out an “ _Alohomora_.” He shoved the hatch open and rushed up the stairs to see Harry striding purposefully towards the edge. “ _Petrificus Totalus_!” Draco cried frantically, fiercely determined to prevent Harry from doing anything rash.

Harry’s body went stiff, and it was like time slowed down. While Draco’s spell had effectively prevented Harry from taking further action, it had no effect on the momentum he’d already built up. Draco could only watch in horror as Harry’s rigid body toppled over the parapet. Draco gave an anguished cry and rushed towards the edge.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape wandered the halls deep in thought and taking little notice of his surroundings, his slow tread a far cry from the typical gait he was known for which sent his robes billowing with every stride. So lost in his thoughts was he that the potions professor had passed no less than three couples snogging in alcoves without even a word, never mind his usual harsh reprimand and deduction of points from both parties. The students could hardly believe their good fortune, so cowed were they by his typical behavior that each had hastened quietly off to their dorms, not wishing to tempt fate.

As Severus reached the Entrance Hall, he began to feel claustrophobic and was struck by the sudden desire to get some fresh air. He paused for a moment to consider Poppy’s likely reaction to the news that he’d been wandering the grounds at night before shrugging the thought off and proceeding to the main entrance. He figured it was probable that he would already be facing her wrath for being out of bed in the first place, ‘in for a knut, in for a galleon,’ as the saying goes.

As he emerged into the moonlit courtyard, Severus took a deep breath of the crisp September air and let it out slowly. As he gazed out across the grounds towards the Black Lake, he could not help feeling a twinge of nostalgia. Hogwarts had been his home almost since his arrival with the Hogwarts Express at eleven years old, a shining beacon of hope to a child who’d grown up poor, neglected, and continuously surrounded by the bickering of his parents.

It’s little wonder that, despite the torments inflicted upon him by The Marauders, Hogwarts rapidly eclipsed his parents’ house in Cokeworth as the place he called home. Even during the four years he had spent in Voldemort’s service following graduation, he’d never been able to distance himself entirely from that feeling. He’d often stolen away to Hogsmeade on quiet afternoons when his absence wouldn’t be missed to gaze longingly upon the castle and immerse himself in its environs.

After that horrible Halloween night, when the Dark Lord had struck down the only person who’d ever cared for him, he’d been a hollow shell when Albus had found him. Beside himself with regret, he’d only been able to begin piecing himself back together after the headmaster had practically dragged him to the castle. Despite the memories that haunted Severus as he’d roamed the halls that first year, the magic of the place and being surrounded by the students, however much he detested their lighthearted frivolity, had breathed new life into him. Hogwarts had been the only true home he’d ever known, and he’d miss her dearly.

Crossing the courtyard, Severus found himself torn from his reflections by the sound of voices. While he was by no means on active duty the thought of catching delinquent students unawares and meting out punishment sent a small thrill coursing through his veins. Casting his gaze about across the grounds in search of the miscreant students, Snape found himself bemused by his inability to spot anyone. Suddenly, the sound of a shouted banishing charm from on high found him palming his wand as he wrenched his gaze skyward to the top of the Astronomy Tower, driving a brief twinge of pain through the still-healing scar tissue in his neck.

A few moments passed, the voice muffled as whoever was casting moved further from the edge before silence settled once again only to be broken by a second voice and the unmistakable words of a full body-bind. Severus felt a painful twinge in his gut, and his mind raced as he briefly flashed back to another night, another conflict atop the Astronomy Tower, as, with mounting horror, he watched a shadow detach itself from the tower and begin plummetting toward the ground.

* * *

“Harry, No!”

His strained words hung heavy in the air as Draco scrambled to the balustrade surrounding the top level of the tower, his heart caught in his throat. Unbidden, repressed visions of the night Dumbledore had died were sent coursing through his mind, and he blinked away sudden tears as he stretched out over the railing to look down expecting the worst. Draco nearly sobbed in relief when he spotted Harry’s body dangling just a meter or so below where he now stood, supported by his cloak which had gotten caught up on one of the ornate iron balusters.

With a heavy sigh, Draco began moving to stow away his wand in its holster when he heard a sound that sent a chill racing down his spine. With mounting dread, Draco turned his gaze back to Harry’s body dangling just out of his reach as the sound of ripping fabric and popping seams seemed to echo in the still night that surrounded him. Before Draco could react to the developing situation, the midweight fabric of Potter’s light autumn cloak tore free from around his arms, and his body began to fall, bouncing off the parapet of the walkway below with a dull thud, before continuing in a rapid descent towards the ground.

Memories galloped through Draco’s head at lightning speed. Meeting Potter in Madam Malkin’s, being rejected on the train, countless conflicts throughout the years, the day the snatchers had dragged the Golden Trio into Malfoy Manor, the day Harry had returned his wand. Digging deep as recollections of their third year flashed before his eyes, Draco grasped hold of every last fragment of magic he could muster in his core and poured it into his wand before bellowing out the first spell that came to mind, he could only hope it would be enough.

“ _ARRESTO MOMENTUM!”_

* * *

Severus’ blood ran cold as he fought against the crippling pain that seemed to wrap around his very core and lurch into motion, hastening towards the base of the tower and doing his best not to stumble on the irregular terrain. He had experienced a brief instant of relief as the form falling from the tower had faltered in its descent, appearing to have been caught up on something, only to have that relief stricken away as the shape separated from another and resume its plunge toward the grounds below.

He winced as he watched the shape careen off of the crenelations of one of the exterior walkways and made to draw his wand, cursing as he stumbled on a loose cobble sending his wand skittering across the ground ahead. He threw himself forward, biting back a snarl as his knee struck the cobbles hard and scrabbled about for his wand. Dimly, he heard a shouted spell and looked up as he reclaimed his wand, grateful to whoever had cast the spell that slowed the shape’s descent long enough for him to recover his wand, though lamenting the fact that they hadn’t managed to stop it altogether.

What little doubt he’d had that the object in question was a body vanished as he was able to discern the flapping of fabric about their still form, apparently the recipient of the body-bind he’d heard, and the shapes of individual limbs became visible. With a determined vow to himself that he wouldn’t see yet another soul pass on the grounds of a school which had become all too familiar with death these past years, Severus raised his wand and cast.

“ _LEVICORPUS!”_

* * *

Draco looked on panicked as his best attempt at saving Harry failed before him, his body continuing to recede into the distance below him. He thrust himself back from the railing and dashed to the stairs, taking them three and four at a time. Draco wasn’t sure what he would find when upon reaching the base of the tower, but he’d do his damnedest to give Potter the best possible odds for survival. He wove his way through the halls at breakneck speeds, diving down staircases with reckless haste determined to reach his destination.

Not once did Draco even pause to consider the possible ramifications for himself should Potter’s fall lead to his untimely death. The fact that his family’s role as spies for the light had only been given serious consideration upon Harry’s corroboration before the Wizengamot was the only reason he’d even been given probation. There were many among the wizarding public that would have liked to see the Malfoy family ruined for the atrocities they’d been forced to commit in their efforts to retain favor with the Dark Lord and maintain access to the information he would only reveal to his inner circle. There was little doubt that the death of _The Vanquisher of Voldemort_ while under the effects of a body-bind cast with his wand would be enough to seal his fate and send him to Azkaban but Draco didn’t even spare it a thought.

As he reached the fourth floor, Draco diverted from the Grand Staircase and flew through the corridor, taking the staircase to the Hospital Wing in leaps and bounds and throwing the doors open with a bang. He rushed through the infirmary without thought for whose sleep he might be disturbing, entered the office without pause and began beating frantically upon the door to the matron’s quarters. When Madam Pomfrey opened her door, lit wand in hand and clad only in a nightshirt and a pair of fuzzy slippers, Draco wasted no time in grabbing he wrist and tugging her forward. “Emergency… Potter!” he gasped.

If Madam Pomfrey thought it odd that Harry Potter’s long-time rival showed such concern for his wellbeing she made no indication. With a grave nod, the matron wasted no time, summoning her emergency kit with a flick of her wand and allowing Draco to lead her out through the ward before he released her arm and broke into a run.

* * *

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Severus watched with dismay as his spell splashed uselessly against the stone of the tower just above the falling body, his aim based on his estimate of the rate of descent off by only a few meters. Taking a deep breath and fighting against the pain in his gut, he brought his wand up close beside his head and aimed with care before letting his spell fly forth once more.

“ _LEVICORPUS!_ ”

Severus nearly crowed in triumph when his spell struck true, the plummeting body’s descent came to an abrupt halt, yanked upside down by the right ankle as though snatched out of the air by an invisible hook. Severus guided the motionless form to the ground, taking painstaking care to rest the head gently upon the grass and maneuvering the body such that it was nearly horizontal before a whispered “ _liberacorpus”_ released the spell.

As the body settled lightly to the ground, the gutwrenching pain vanished without a trace and Snape collapsed to his knees in relief. He drew in a few shuddering gasps of air, attempting to collect himself before hastening off to check on the individual he’d saved. Just as he was working to regain his feet, the postern entrance to the Grand Staircase flew open with a bang, drawing his attention; the shock of white-blond hair he observed rushing out the door nearly drove him to his knees with a broken gasp. “Draco…”

* * *

Draco burst through the stairwell door and set out across the lawn at a sprint, making a beeline for the base of the tower with Madam Pomfrey hastening after him. When he reached the lump, lying motionless in the grass and practically invisible within the tower’s shadow, he collapsed to his knees and began pleading desperately.

“Come on, Harry, please be all right. Please be all right, please, please, please be all right. Don’t you dare go dying, Potter! I didn’t mean for you to fall!”

* * *

As he processed his godson’s words, Severus began to see red. Harry? Potter? HARRY POTTER?! What was Draco thinking, dueling Potter like this? Of all the short-sighted, petty, inconsiderate, downright asinine moves he could have made, to risk Azkaban over a petty schoolboy rivalry was unconscionable. It was only thanks to Potter’s testimony (backstopping that of Kingsley Shacklebolt which had failed to sway the majority) that the Malfoys’ position as spies for the Order had even been accepted and now Draco was throwing it all away over some sort ridiculous grudge?

Severus allowed his indignation to fuel his efforts as he rose once again to his feet, observing nonplussed as Madam Pomfrey arrived at the scene -- no doubt Granger had run to fetch her once the dispute had gotten out of hand. Severus gathered his fury about him like a cloak and crushed it down with Occlumency until it simmered just below the surface before stalking forwards.

“Mister Malfoy,” he hissed, drawing out the honorific, “you will proceed directly to my quarters and await my return.”

Draco turned in surprise, evidently caught off guard by his presence. “Uncle Sev…”

“Now, Mister Malfoy,” Severus interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Wait, Uncle Sev, I need to--“ Draco stammered.

“Fifty points from Slytherin.” Draco reeled back, eyes wide as though he’d been slapped. For a moment, Severus thought the boy had taken the hint until a shadow crossed his face and he opened his mouth to speak. Severus flicked his wand. “ _Silencio_. You will go to my quarters at once, you will not speak to anyone, and you will await me in my sitting room. While you are waiting, you will reflect upon the relative value of a school rivalry as compared to your continued freedom.

“As soon as I have seen Mister Potter to the Hospital Wing and a determination has been made as to his wellbeing, I will be down. At that time we will discuss a suitable punishment for your reckless behavior. If you are fortunate, I will be able to prevail upon Mister Potter’s Gryffindor nature on your behalf, and this mistake will not result in a one-way ticket to Azkaban. _Finite Incantatem_. Go, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco opened his mouth as though to object, but a raised eyebrow was sufficient encouragement for him to reconsider that course of action. With a dark scowl crossing his face, Draco stormed off towards the main entrance and Severus turned his attention to more pressing affairs. Madam Pomfrey was hovering over Potter, waving her wand in a complex series of movements Severus recognized as those of a diagnostic spell. At his approach, the matron looked up at him with a reproachful expression on her face.

“Severus Tobias Snape, just what do you have to say for yourself? I left you in your bed mere hours ago, trusting you to go to sleep like a responsible adult, and here I find you cavorting about the grounds exerting yourself.” Severus winced and opened his mouth to respond only to be cut off before he could begin. “Rest assured, young man, that I will be running a full panel of diagnostics on you just as soon as I’ve finished with Mr. Potter. If I find that you’ve overexerted yourself, you can just forget any notion of being discharged in the morning. Honestly, Severus, considering the nature of the injuries you received, I’d have thought that you of all people could be trusted to take your recuperation seriously.”

Recognizing a losing battle without even having to begin, Severus simply nodded his acceptance. “And how is Mister Potter?”

With a sniff, Poppy turned away and began conjuring a stretcher. “He’s got extensive bruising on his right-hand side, one broken and three fractured ribs, and his collarbone is shattered, it’s no wonder he’s passed out from the pain. Furthermore, he shows signs of fatigue, both physical and magical. I daresay he’ll be joining you in the ward tonight, and I’ll likely be keeping him through the end of the week. After everything we’ve gone through I really would have expected the active participants in the war to have learned to take better care of themselves.

“Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you’d be able to shed any light on just how the boy ended up in this condition? I had planned to ask Mr. Malfoy, but you sent him away before I had a chance. Based upon the injuries, I’d suspect an object thrown with a strong Banishing Charm, but there’s no sign of any potential projectile in the immediate area.”

Severus looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand in an attempt to stave off the headache he could feel fast approaching before he responded. “He fell from the Astronomy Tower.”

“Now is hardly the time for jokes, Severus,” Pomfrey huffed as she carefully levitated Harry’s body onto the conjured stretcher.

“I am, regretfully, quite sincere. I was out taking a walk to clear my head when I heard voices and spells being cast. After hearing the incantation for the body-bind, I watched the whole thing. Potter fell some ten meters, struck one of the upper parapets, and then proceeded to fall the rest of the way. Thankfully, Mr. Malfoy appears to have reconsidered the wisdom of killing the Savior of the Wizarding World as his Deceleration Charm was integral to my success in catching Potter before he reached the ground.”

Poppy’s eyes widened, and the blanching of her skin was visible even in the light of the moon. “Thank Merlin you were here. Not that it excuses your being out of bed, mind, but I shudder to think what might have-- no, best leave that thought alone. At least the body-bind kept him from moving about; while his collarbone was shattered, all of the pieces remained properly aligned which makes fusing them back together much easier, believe you me. Right then, off we go. Follow me, Mr. Snape.” With a flourish of her wand, the matron levitated the stretcher bearing Harry Potter in front of her and set off into the school.

As he followed Madam Pomfrey, Severus turned his thoughts back to his errant godson. He’d known the boy had grown up a bit spoiled due to his parents’ attentions, despite Severus’ best efforts to keep him grounded, but he’d genuinely believed the boy to be turning over a new leaf now that the play-acting for the Dark Lord was behind them. The boy had certainly carried on about mending fences when he’d come to visit Severus in the hospital wing, so much so that he’d allowed himself to feel optimistic about his godson’s future. Now, every last bit of that optimism had been torn to shreds in an instant.

If Draco had gotten himself into such an altercation with anyone other than Potter, there was little doubt in his mind that the Aurors would be called and Draco would have ended up on the first Portkey to Azkaban come morning. As it stands, depending on Potter’s mood and what they’d fought about, he gave his godson even odds of surviving this without being sent to the prison. He could only hope that Potter’s over-developed sense of fair play would prevent the Gryffindor for condemning Draco to such a fate. Whether he’d survive Severus’ wrath, on the other hand, would remain to be seen.

And to think, he’d been thinking the boy responsible enough to consider a business partnership. Clearly, he had gravely misjudged his godson’s development. There was nothing for it, if Draco wasn’t ready to comport himself like an adult then he’d watch over him like the child he acted. Honestly, midnight duels atop the Astronomy Tower? What is this, first year? He’d expect no less from Potter, but he’d genuinely thought his godson had grown beyond such childish behavior. He could only hope that Potter would be forgiving and that he’d be able to come up with a suitable punishment before the incident was reported to the headmistress.

* * *

Draco slammed the portrait to his godfather’s quarters behind him and sat down in an armchair with an indignant huff. It wasn’t bloody fair. Uncle Sev hadn’t even let him get a word of explanation in before scolding him and sending him off.

And taking points! Sure, if he’d really been caught dueling in the halls, he’d have expected no less, but to deduct all those points without waiting for or even asking for an explanation was infuriating. He was being treated like a naughty child without getting the chance to explain himself. It was only made worse by his innocence. For the first time in his life, Draco could truly appreciate what it must have been like for Harry in Snape’s classroom, being blamed for mishaps when it was pranks played by the Slytherins that caused the issues. To describe the feeling as unpleasant would be putting things mildly.

With a shake of his head, Draco dismissed the thought for later consideration and began clearing his head. He needed to get his thoughts in order so that he could defend himself whenever his godfather deigned to arrive. Whatever was going on with Harry, Draco couldn’t do much alone, and he desperately needed to convince his godfather of the severity of the situation before things got any worse. Draco stared into the fire as he composed his thoughts and awaited his godfather’s arrival.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying what I've written so far. As mentioned in the Notes preceding this story, I write this story as I go. Due to a fairly hectic work schedule and the inconsistent nature of muses, I will make no commitments to any kind of regular update schedule. I hope you will all be patient with me as it may be weeks between updates. I am rather a bit of a perfectionist and hope that quality will make up for the lack of quantity.


End file.
